Like Orpheus and Eurydice
by Karen Hikari
Summary: I really don't know what brought me up to him. Charles Beckendorf. But why, I wonder, why if our love was so strong, like Orpheus' and Eurydice's, why couldn't we be together? A short story from Silena's point of view after she lost her boyfriend. Spoilers fromThe Last Olympian.


Okay, this idea appeared because Beckendorf's death really hurt me. I really liked that character, and his death, added to Silena's was a low-blow for this girl. And I had vacations, so meanwhile I was trying to sleep my mind divagated and this idea suddenly appeared. I wrote t between 12:00 o'clock and two in the morning.

Hope you like it!

_Like Orpheus and Eurydice_

I really don't know what brought me up to him. Charles Beckendorf.

It was not his handsomeness, sure. But he possessed a rough beauty, an inner beauty that not everyone could see.

Not everything is about that outside beauty, I've learned.

They were handsome demigods here, of course. For example, Luke, if you could ignore his scar or the Stoll brothers, that were also very attractive, or Michael, from Apollo's, that had also some charm. Even Percy was handsome in a way—though it was more that his clumsiness made him look cute, but he sure had some beautiful eyes.

That was not something that my Charlie had—outside beauty, just like his father. Still, he had something else, entirely different.

He was always so nice, so educated, so gentle, so kind. God, he even was nice to that cyclops that apparently is Percy's brother—I can not tell either if it was because his father Hephaestus works with those creatures in his forges or because he wanted someone to talk to about constructing artifacts and that stuff, but even if Tyson hadn't been skilled in the manipulation of metal, he wouldn't have ever been disrespectful to him or stepped back, as others did.

He was always there to help others, in whatever they needed. That's what called my attention first, probably, though I really don't remember.

I came to Camp Half-Blood at the age of fourteen. I was kind of lucky there, I was not that much of a kid anymore, and my childhood had been happy, others came here a lot younger and with many more sufferings than I did, like Annabeth for example, or Percy.

Unlike many other demigods, I had a very good relationship with my father. I was his everything, the center of his universe, his little girl. As a joke, I sometimes think about all of my whips and wonder if they are really fault of my mother, Aphrodite, or of my father, because he always gave me everything I wanted.

Sometimes it gets hard, being Aphrodite's daughter. We live with this stereotype of physical beauty and material interests over emotions. That's not true.

Sure, most of us have some serious problem with buying things we don't really need or with following fashions—yet, it's not something we all share just because of our mother.

We, heroes, all have our debilities that we have to struggle with everyday. Well, ours is that. It's something we can't control when it takes us over. Most people can't understand, but it's true.

The compulsive buying, the necessity of having everything in order, the predilection over pair things, the urge of having the exact earrings for the exact necklace for the exact bracelet for the exact dress, the need of colors that match—people think we act out of vanity, but that's not true. We can't control it, we try, but that's our fatal curse.

And, in the other part of this stupid stereotype, they think we have no heart, people think we prefer material things, that sooner or later end —such as money, dresses, and handsomeness— over emotions, because of our vanity, just because we are Aphrodite's sons and daughters, doesn't it sound unfair? Plus, it's illogical. Aphrodite is not only the goddess of beauty, but also the goddess of love.

There was even this one time, shortly after I started dating Charles when a girl that hadn't been claimed and that finally changed to Kronos' band came to me and started blurting out nonsenses.

She said I was very pretty and that I could have got something better than Beckendorf. She even pronounced his name as if it were something horrible and disgusting. I was so mad, so, so mad.

This stupid girl, that never talked to me had decided to come to opine about and criticize my romantic life! First, why did she had to come and talk about things that were none of her buisness? And second, couldn't she see I didn't want anything other than Charlie? I left without even bothering to answer and spent the rest of my day mad at everyone.

I loved Charles because of so many reasons that for short, I always said I loved him just because he was him. He was a hard worker, he was polite, he was brave, so, so brave—he was a hero, my hero.

I know it's ridiculous and I know it sounds stupid and I know that women shouldn't think of things like this because its opposite to feminism, but when I looked at him I really wished I was a princess trapped up in a high tower and guarded by a huge dragon, just for seeing him appear to save me. He would have done that over and over again if necessary, just to prove me that he loved me.

I knew, when I looked straight into his dark eyes that he loved me so much and so tenderly, that sometimes I wondered, what in the name of Olympus had I done to deserve a love so big. I also knew I loved him as well, with everything I had, with every single bit of me, with every beat of my heart, with every sigh, with every fragment of my soul.

When he talked to me, his eyes sparkled. When I thought about him, I unconsciously started to smile and everything seemed better and positive. Just talking to him made the world brighter.

I'm the daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love, so I knew it, I always knew it.

It was love. True, honest, pure, lasting love. Like the one that Orpheus and Eurydice shared. The one that lasts forever and defeats every single barrier.

We made so many plans, together. Everything we could think as a future included the other one, as a partner, as a companion, as the other half of our world.

You know, it's funny, because most people think gods are perfect, but that's just another stereotype. We, demigods, know just how imperfect they are.

I could say, for example, turning my dialogue into a metaphor, that I wanted to be the Hera in Charlie's Olympus, implying that he'd me my Zeus, god of my heart and universe, as corny and pinkish as that sounds. But let the gods free me from such a horrible destiny!

Hera and her husband Zeus may be the most known married couple in Olympus—but not because of how much they love each other!

Hera sent her own son, blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh, flying down from Olympus just because she didn't like his physical appearance. And that was the very same father of Charlie, Hephaestus.

Likewise does my mother, Aphrodite. She may be the goddess of love and everything, but her romantic life is a mess. Not only is she married and is untrue to her husband, but she doesn't even try to hide it! With that, her husband, and every other single creature knows about her infidelity, and sometimes I even think she's proud of it. She refuges saying that she doesn't love her husband and that they obliged her to marry him, if she has to give any reasons for her acting.

But that's not it yet. Her husband, the one she's unfaithful to, it's not other than the same Hephaestus Hera sent down from Olympus! Yup, that's right, my mother is married to Charlie's father, though they dislike each other, in the end.

And the same goes for Persephone and Hades.

Sometimes I even wonder if gods are capable of feeling a love so deep. They don't spend time with their mortal sons and daughters, fine. But they are married to immortal people, just like them! They'll spend centuries, and more than that, eternity, with each other!

Can they not feel love? Or do they not even try?

As I was saying, my Charlie was not pretty outside, but I found a real jewel when I looked a bit deeper. I saw him. Not the physical him, but his soul, his thoughts. Him.

And I fell in love with that.

And, the curious thing is, he did the same.

I'm not an ugly person, far from that, I'm very beautiful. And I sincerely hate that. Most people think I just have a pretty face and that's all they remember about me.

But I'm more than that, god, I'm a lot more than that. I'm kind, I love riding pegasus, and when I live with my father, I sometimes ride a horse. I love sports, the kind of dance and gymnastic. I love astrology, watching the stars late at night. I love silence, because it represents peace. And I love walking down the shore just to listen to the waves of the ocean and to the far away murmur of the nereids' voices. But when people look at me, they see none of this.

They see pretty blue eyes, a coquette smile and a svelte and thin figure dressed in some gorgeous clothes. That's all.

But Charles didn't. He saw me as I was. As me. He saw how my left upper canine is bow-legged, how after a rainy day my hair is a mess and I can't even have a decent hair do with it, how my laughter sometimes is not as graceful and attractive and makes me sound like a seal.

Once, because of an emergency, he went to see me at my father's house. My father woke me up and said I had to get down the stairs immediately, I obeyed, uncomfortably. I was dressed in some old, loose pajamas, I hadn't even combed my hair and it was hanging around my face in the most messy way, and of course I wasn't wearing any makeup, not even lipstick. Plus, I had had a terrible night and I had some horrible, dark bags under my eyes.

He still said I looked gorgeous.

And I knew he wasn't lying, because he talked about my inner beauty, that that was always ready at least forty minutes before my physical beauty.

So, I wonder, if could do that, see through his huge and rough physical appearance, and looked into that kind, nice, gentle and brave boy inside the body, why can't my mother do it? Or Zeus? Or Hera? Or Persephone? Why do they have to keep up fighting?

I'm so jealous right now. They have eternity. They still have eternity for forgiving each other, for learning to love, for learning of their mistakes.

Charlie and I don't.

He's gone. He's gone! Ohh, he, my lover, my sweetheart, the love of my life! He's gone! Completely, irreparable gone! He left with that damn ship, the Princess Andromeda. He died for the sake of us all, he died because of his bravery, because of his—

That's not true! I'm crying and I'm sorrowing and I know that's not true! I killed him! These hands, so skinny and elegant are blood-strained! I, myself, killed him.

I killed the one that made me laugh with simple things, the one that made a rainy day seem sunny, the one that could make a gorgeous pair of earrings and a beautiful necklace that magically transformed into a sword and a shield by pulsing a button.

He's gone.

I can't do nothing now, can I? The pain is so big I feel numb.

I'm guilty. I'm guilty. Take me now! Kill me now! Get a sword and stab me right in the heart! Maybe, maybe then I can stop feeling like this.

I hear them arguing, the other demigods. Days come and go. Kronos' army continues to gain ground, but I can't bring myself to care.

Clarisse is here. She keeps saying I'll be fine, and that he's also okay now, in the Elysium, she says she understands my pain, but that I need to me strong.

Those are all lies.

I can't ever be 'fine' again! I don't deserve it! No, not after what I did! My guilt is so big I deserve to die and go to Tartarus for eternity to redeem my crimes! And he's not 'okay'! Of course he's not! Charles had a life. He had dreams. He was going to go to college in fall, he was going to be so many wonderful things!

And, lastly, I wasn't strong, I'm not strong. If I had been strong back then and fought back Luke and stopped acting as an spy for him, this wouldn't be happening. Charlie would still be alive. Charlie would still be alive and I could still feel something other than pain and numbness!

But I was weak! So, so weak I let Luke manipulate me!

Why, I wonder now, why if our love was so strong, like Orpheus' and Eurydice's, why couldn't we be together?


End file.
